Tiny Hands

I cup his tiny, blue-veined hand in mine
And listen to the static on the radio
And rock, rock, rock.

I gaze at long, black eyelashes
And try to think of a name as beautiful as he is
And listen to his heart beat, beat, beat.

I smooth back the fine, brown hair on his head
And decide to baptize him Tommy so he can go to heaven
And my heart aches, aches, aches.